


Phone Calls and Friendships

by annaliesegrace



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-11 00:48:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8946496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annaliesegrace/pseuds/annaliesegrace
Summary: A series of phone calls between Mike and Ginny - because it sounds like they've had an awful lot of them. One-shots.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There will be language - these are ballplayers, thus much swearing but as of now no plans for an Explicit chapter. Yet. I'm sure that will last two chapters and they'll be banging - because its all they want to do.

“I hate you.” The words held no real bite through his phone, it was more annoyance than anything.

“You say that a lot, Rookie.”

Ginny shifted on her small couch and pouted, which came through in her tone, “This time I think I mean it. How did you even _know_ that?”

“I guessed.”

“Bullshit. There is no way you guessed that.”

Mike pulled a beer out of the fridge and opened it while holding the phone with his shoulder against his ear. If these late night calls were going to continue he needed to find his Bluetooth and keep the damn thing charged.

For half a second he debated not telling her but then, “Evie told me.” A sharp gasp came across the phone. “It wasn’t…she didn’t mean to. It was right after you got called up and I was having dinner at their place-“

“Yorkie pictures?”

“Not that time…anyway, I was there and we were talking about you, I cannot remember _how_ it came up but next thing I know, Evelyn is blurting it out.”

“How old I was when I had my first kiss came up in conversation?” Now she was annoyed.

Mike frowned and took a long drink; he really couldn’t remember why it had come up. Blip had said something and Evie had admonished him…

“No, it was. Christ, Rookie, I cannot remember why but she said it, ok? In her defense she looked horrified after so don’t tell her I said anything.”

Ginny shifted again and sighed across the phone. “She really cannot keep a secret.”

“Nope,” Mike agreed and dropped onto his sofa, careful of the beer. “That said…really? Nineteen?”

“Bite me, Lawson. My whole life was baseball; I didn’t have time for boys or dances or…whatever.” If there was a little bit of regret in her voice, Mike pointedly ignored it.

“So, since I guessed the age you had your first kiss-“

“You didn’t guess, asshole. You already knew the answer, doesn’t count.”

“Does count. Next time be more careful about what you bet on. Cough it up. Was there a Mike Lawson poster on your wall or not? And don’t lie, that’s the rule.”

There was a long, heavy silence then, “I hate you _so_ very much right now.”

Mike knew he’d won, already knew the answer just based on her hemming and hawing but he needed to hear her say it, _wanted_ to hear the words come out of her mouth. It made the victory so much sweeter.

“Fine you unbelievable dick. Yes, I had a Mike Lawson poster on my wall.”

“I knew it!” Mike practically pumped his fist. “Where was it?”

“What?”

“In your room, where was the poster?”

She grumbled a little then, “Over the head of my bed.”

“Interesting…” he said with a tone that was just a little dirty.

“Let’s remember I was _thirteen_ , Lawson. _Thirteen._ ”

The beer paused halfway to his lips as the words sunk in and mentally splashed cold water all over his victory. _If she was thirteen, then I was…oh, god dammit I was twenty five. Two years older than she was now._

And now he felt like a pervert.

“You still there, old man?” she asked, her voice taking on a triumphant tone.

“I…thanks for making me feel old there. And a little creepy.”

A noise came through the line he couldn’t identify. But then he realized…laughter, she was laughing at him. “Are you done asking about the poster now?” she asked between breaths.

The bottle finally made it to his lips and he took a long pull. “So done, so _very_ done. Let’s move one, shall we?”

More laughter then, “We shall.”


	2. Cilantro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The great cilantro discussion. Hope I did it justice.

The “ding” of a text message woke Mike from a dozing, early morning sleep and he grumbled, rolling over to pull his phone off the night table, nearly dropping it on his face.

GINNY glared at him from the home screen.

Bleary eyed, he squinted at the time on the device, 8 am, and swore under his breath; it was their damn day off and she was texting him at eight in the morning. The universe better be ending.

 **Ginny:** RU up?

If he’d removed the “Baker” from her contact info right around the same time the Gina’s phone numbers were erased it was purely coincidental.

 **Mike:** I am now, Rookie.

 **Ginny:** Can I call?

_Seriously?_

**Mike:** NO. Unless you need a ride to the hospital give me thirty.

There was a long pause while she probably debated how far to push whatever it was she needed then,

 **Ginny:** Ok.

Tossing the phone back to the table, Mike slowly hauled himself out of bed and went through the morning routine: bathroom, sweatpants, shirt, make the bed then downstairs where he pushed “start” on the coffee maker. Part of him was so curious about what had her calling so early that he nearly picked up the phone and called her back before the thirty minutes were up but then he decided to let her stew a little bit. Retribution for calling when she knew perfectly well he wasn’t up.

One cup of coffee down, the second poured and his phone rang at minute twenty-nine. Close enough, he figured and answered.

“You know we have the day off, right?” Was his greeting.

“Yes,” she said almost tentatively. “I figured you’d be up.”

Mike took a long drink of the coffee before answering, “As you like to point out, I sleep a lot so no, you did not. What’s up?”

“Uh, I need help.”

He rolled his eyes. “I gathered”

“The Sanders annual bar-be-que is today and I offered to bring something.”

Mike was confused, maybe it was the hour or the single cup of coffee he'd consumed, really he needed two to function. “Not following, where’s the problem.”

“I don’t cook, Lawson!”

This was not a problem as far as Mike was concerned. “So…stop at the grocery store on the way out and call it a day.”

There was a long pause and Mike considered his breakfast options in the silence: egg whites or just cereal with fruit.

“No, I promised Evie I would _make_ something.”

Mike laughed, loudly while pulling the Cheerios out of the pantry (laziness had won out). “Well that was a mistake.”

“Clearly. You cook, right?”

“I do, very well even.” He paused in the middle of pouring the cereal in the bowl, a nasty thought taking holdI’m not making something for you, Rookie. Don’t even think it.”

An annoyed sigh floated over the phone. “I wasn’t. I was thinking you could give me a suggestion for something easy I can make in like…four hours.”

She sounded desperate, it amused him. “It’s called Google, Baker. You didn’t have to call me.”

“Google does not understand how bad I am at cooking!”

“How did you survive in the minors, exactly? I mean, meal plans aren’t exactly their thing,” he asked while slicing a banana into the bowl then deciding it wasn’t enough and pulling a second from the fruit bowl, adding that one as well to the cereal.

There was shifting on the other end of the phone then, “Let’s just leave it at cereal is good any time of the day. Along with scrambled eggs.”

Mike frowned at the contents of his bowl but poured the milk anyway, sitting at the counter bar stool and taking a couple bites, letting his brain sift through the possibilities of what she could make (she is shockingly quiet as he does) before settling on one.

“All right. Cilantro Lime Rice.” He hears spluttering on the other end but talks over her, pretty sure she’s protesting. “All it is is rice, some chicken broth, lime and cut up cilantro. Make the rice using the broth instead of water and add the rest when it’s done. Easy and even you can’t mess it up.” Mike pauses a split second, then amends, “Probably.”

“Cilantro is nasty!” she exclaims through the phone and he hears shifting and rustling material like she’s changing. Mike doesn’t hang onto that thought long.

“What…no, it’s not,” he says and takes several more bites of his breakfast, washing it down the second cup of coffee. “You asked for something easy to make. That is literally the easiest thing ever.”

“Cilantro tastes like soap.”

“Like what?” he asks, pretty sure he misheard her.

“Soap. S-O-A-P, Mike.”

Huh, he hadn’t. “No, it doesn’t. It’s got a pepper or even citrus-y flavor. What have you been eating? Cause it ain’t cilantro.”

“Uh, it is cilantro and to me, it tastes like soap. Between four and fourteen percent of the population have a genetic mutation that causes cilantro to taste soapy.”

“What?” he asks, incredulous. “That’s bullshit.”

“Uh, it’s not, Lawson. Look it up. Pretty sure even old men like yourself know how to use Google.”

“Your full of it and trying to get me to make something for you.”

“I am doing no such thing. It’s the same genetic mutation they think causes broccoli to be bitter and means I can’t smell asparagus pee.”

Mike scrunched up his face at the phone, way too much information this early in the morning. But now she had him curious and he shoved the last two bites of breakfast into his mouth while pulling his iPad out of his duffle.

“I swear to God if this is some bizarre excuse not to cook…”

“On my fastball, it’s not.”

“That’s not much of a bet, Baker. Your fastball sucks.”

“Ha, ha,” she deadpanned. “But I’m not screwing with you. Cilantro is disgusting and you should feel bad for suggesting I cook it.”

Pulling up Google, Mike responded, “Just because you make it doesn’t mean you have to _eat_ it.”

“Then what is the point to making it? Ugh. Nasty, disgusting soap tasting stuff that you find all over the place these days and it’s a goddamn nightmare going out to eat now. It’s unbelievable how many times one has to confirm its not _in_ the food or…OR request they not put it in and they say ‘sure, we can leave that out’, but they never do. Like the cook thinks it’s the most insane request ever. And once you’ve taken a bite of it it’s fucking impossible to get the taste out of your mouth and then _everything_ tastes like soap for like…two days.” Ginny paused to take a breath and Mike smiled widely across the phone at her rant. “Your grinning like an idiot over there, aren’t you? You…cilantro-loving philistine. You verify my claim yet?”

He had just typed the search into the little box and hit enter. Holy shit, she wasn’t messing with him.

“Your serious-“ he started but was promptly cut off.

“Told you,” she said smugly.

“But again, just because you make it doesn’t mean you have to eat it.”

“Miiiike,” she whined.

“Look, Baker. Cook the damn rice, don’t eat it. You know Evie will have all the other foods you love. Just make sure you wash your hands once you’re done. And don’t taste test.”

“But-“

Mike glanced at the clock, he could come up with something else probably but this was literally the easiest thing she could make on short order and he was feeling a little petty after she woke him up for this nonsense. “Three hours, rookie. Whatcha gonna do?”

“Fine.”

Then, because he felt a little bad, “You need a ride?”

“Yes, please.”

“Pick you up at noon.”

 

* * *

 

When he picked her up at the hotel she was holding a small casserole dish and a crabby expression.

“Smells good,” he said, making a point to sniff the air.

“No, it does not,” she countered.

“Tell you what, I’ll buy the first beer.”

She gave him a small smile; the beer was always free at the Sanders annual team party.

“How magnanimous of you.”

“I try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side question: would a conversation entirely in text message be too hard to read? Thoughts? I waffle on this issue.
> 
> Also: still taking prompts!


	3. Text and Twenty Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, I had a suggestion of 20 questions and that fit really nicely with my idea for a text message chapter which most of you were all for!!. I hope this played out as well as I think it does and the format is easy to follow.  
> Also - MANY thanks to all that have left kudos and comments, they are so, so inspirational for a writer. Please, continue.

They were thirty minutes into the bus ride back to San Diego when Ginny’s phone dinged, nearly waking her seatmate. Fishing the device out of her pocket and unlocking it, she almost let out a laugh when the display read:

 **Mike:** Would you like to play a game?

Ginny twisted her head around to look at her captain who was sitting two rows behind her across the aisle, also in the outside seat. He was looking down. She’d been late to board the team bus, waylaid by Al and by the time she’d climbed on, Blip had taken her usual seat next to Mike by the window, forcing her to sit next to Butch. Which wasn’t all bad really, the older pitcher had fallen asleep against the window almost immediately after pulling of the parking lot of Angels stadium; not surprising considering they had just finished a three game series and it was nearly midnight.

 **Ginny:** Bored already?

 **Mike:** Yes. Usual seatmate was late. Can’t harp on Blip abt waving me off. Again

 **Ginny:** Whatev, what kind of game?

 **Mike:** 20 questions

 **Ginny:** RU serious?

 **Mike:** Yes.

 **Ginny:** Fine, you go first

 **Mike:** DC or Marvel

 **Ginny:** Marvel. Chris Evans is hot. HOT

Ginny looked back to find him frowning at the phone and she let out a small giggle.

 **Mike:** He doesn’t have a beard

 **Ginny:** Exactly

 **Mike:** Your turn

 **Ginny:** Star Wars or Star Trek

 **Mike:** Seriously? Wars.

 **Ginny:** It’s the wookie,right? All that hair

They were close enough and the bus was quiet enough that she heard him sigh in frustration. She sent him the grinning emoticon next, he responded with the frowning one.

Ginny twisted again and matched her emoticons wide smile with one of her own, when his eyes met hers she saw amusement just below the faux irritation.

 **Ginny:** Admit it that was a good one.

 **Mike:** I admit nothing. Favorite sports movie?

Ginny stared at the phone a long moment, there hadn’t been that many movies that she’s seen and none she’d really call a favorite. After five minutes of contemplation her phone vibrated again in her hand.

 **Mike:** It wasn’t that hard of a question, Baker

 **Ginny:** Haven’t seen that many movies

 **Mike:** Field of Dreams, Bull Durham, Major League?

 **Ginny:** Never seen em

Mike sent her the shocked emoticon and she shook her head at the phone.

 **Ginny:** again…born in 92. Pick something this century

 **Mike:** Please stop reminding me. Fine…favorite movie in general

 **Ginny:** Really don’t have one. Honest

 **Mike:** You suck at this game. Coke or Pepsi?

 **Ginny:** pepsi but only if grape soda isnt a choice.

 **Mike:** Grape soda?

 **Ginny:** Another day. Fav sport that isn’t baseball?

 **Mike:** Football. Ever been out of the country?

 **Ginny:** Does Canada count?

 **Mike:** No.

 **Ginny:** then no. Beer or liquor

 **Mike:** Liquor. Skittles or M&Ms?

 **Ginny:** M &Ms. Beach or mountains

 **Mike:** Beach. Did you ever play softball?

 **Ginny:** No, did you?

 **Mike:** Ha ha. Any piercings

 **Ginny:** That’s inappropriate, captain.

She sent it with a grinning emoticon then immediately answered.

 **Ginny:** But no. Wait…are we doing 20q each or total?

She turned in her seat to look at him as Mike popped his head up and shrugged. ‘Wing it’, he mouthed to her. Ginny nodded and turned back to her phone with an evil grin.

 **Ginny:** How long did it take to grow that ridiculous beard?

 **Mike:** Years and years to get to this level of perfection.

She snorted, which she knew he could hear.

 **Mike:** Ever been skiing?

 **Ginny:** No, too cold. Favorite Christmas present?

 **Mike:** 9yo, catchers glove. You?

 **Ginny:** 13yo, getting my ears pierced without telling my Dad. How many car dealerships do you own?

 **Mike:** Four. Looking to buy?

He added the smiling emoticon.

 **Ginny:** No. Don’t have a license.

 **Mike:** I know but why not?

Ginny gripped the phone, and unexpected tears sprung into her eyes, she quickly blinked them away.

 **Ginny:** Another day

 **Mike:** Ok.

 **Ginny:** Dogs or cats?

 **Mike:**  Dogs, big ones. No little yippy ones.

 **Ginny:** Don’t tell Blip, he loves the Yorkie

 **Mike:** I know it

The phone was silent for another five minutes and Ginny was about to text him back when it vibrated again.

 **Mike:** Tattoo?

Ginny twitched her finger over the phone, debating if she should distract him from the question because she knew her answer would only invite more personal questions. After a half minute of mental wrestling she decided to go for it, she trusted Mike, knew he would keep it to himself.

 **Ginny:** Yes

As expected the line of questioning continued.

 **Mike:** Really? Where? What? When?

 **Ginny:** When I turned 18.

 **Mike:** And…

Rather than text, Ginny stood and surveyed the bus, observing everyone in their immediate area was sleeping, Al and Bud were awake but in their typical front row seat and so involved in working they hadn’t even noticed her rise. Or had and simply didn’t care.

Stretching slowly, she moved toward the back of the bus, noting that Mike had watched her every move thus far.

When she got to his row, Ginny paused next to him, her eyes glancing at Blip to confirm he was asleep before meeting and holding Mike’s and hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her leggings, pulling them down just past her right hipbone which was directly at his eyelevel.

Mike’s eyes slipped from hers and moved to the smooth caramel colored flesh she’d exposed. Ginny noticed the flare of…something in his eyes before they’d moved down her body but chose to ignore it for now.

Tattooed into the skin over the fleshy part of her hipbone in the dip between her abdomen and thigh was the number 42, it was fairly small and in jet black ink, nothing fancy, it was very Ginny Baker. Absently, Mike’s fingers reached out and he touched the skin, reveling in the number and its meaning. Ginny sucked in a breath at the contact but didn’t move even though where his fingertips touched her felt like she’d been lit on fire, a warm feeling settled in her abdomen.

His fingers pulled away faster than she would have liked but given she was standing in the aisle of the team bus, exposing an extremely private tattoo, time was not a luxury they had.

Once her pants were pulled back up, Ginny dared meet his eyes again and it was obvious he’d felt the same thing she had when he had touched her.

For a long moment they stared at each other until Ginny nodded her head toward the bathroom and moved to the back of the bus, a little shaken at what had just happened. When the idea had come to her to simply show him the tattoo it seemed like a fairly innocent action, it was a couple square inches of skin at the most, nothing truly scandalous. Until he’d touched her and looked at her with that expression of want and suddenly exposing those couple of inches was either the worst or best idea she’d ever had.

Secured in the washroom, Ginny splashed some water on her face and took a couple of deep breaths, easing away the desire that still lingered in her system. She knew there was something between them, there had been since minute one but they’d successfully transitioned it into a strong friendship and on field connection. And until that minute, Ginny had convinced herself the wanting was one sided on her part, that Mike saw her as a teammate, a friend, nothing more.

Ginny had been very, very wrong on that account.

Taking a deep breath, she exited the small space and moved back to her seat, sparing Mike only the briefest of glances as she walked by, he was staring down at his phone again.

Settled back into her seat, Ginny pulled her phone back out of her jacket pocket, surprised to see another text from Mike.

 **Mike:** Need a ride home?

The question was innocent, the implication was not. Mike knew perfectly well Blip always gave Ginny a ride back to the Omni – always.

She debated for a long while, accepting his offer could lead somewhere she’d sworn off. But this was Mike…

They were pulling off the highway, her window to make a decision was closing with every mile.

 **Ginny:** Yes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first three chapters were pretty fluffy here, I think the next conversation will be a little more angsty.


	4. Drivers Licenses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A discussion of why Ginny doesn't have a drivers license.

“Hello.” Ginny answered the phone as she opened the door to her hotel room, juggling the phone, a carton of Chinese and her key card. The carton of sweet and sour nearly tumbled to the floor as she shut the door and an unrestrained, “shit” came out as she just barely saved it.

“Nice language, Baker.” Mike’s amused voice came over the line. “I hope you knew it was me.”

“Just…hang on will you?”

Without even waiting for an answer, Ginny let the phone drop to the sofa, set the Chinese on the small coffee table along with the key card and kept moving into her bedroom where she set her backpack on the floor near the small dresser. Finally unencumbered she moved back toward the sofa with a short detour in the kitchenette to grab a fork and beer before she settled back on the couch, picking up the phone and putting it on speaker.

“Sorry…” she said while opening the carton and taking a big bite.

“So...that was a rough game,” he started tentatively, clearly trying to suss out her willingness to discuss it the disaster that had been the afternoon.

Ginny swallowed and then answered, “Rough? That’s what we are going with? I had seven runs in three innings. That’s….I’m not sure there’s a word yet to describe that piece of shit performance.”

He sighed on the other end of the phone and Ginny could hear him running fingers through his beard. “Every pitcher has this game, Baker. Some of em even wants have more than one. Evers-“

“I don’t care about Evers, Mike!” she loudly hissed. "He wasn’t the one who blew it today, I did!”

“I know…” There was a long pause then, “Let’s talk about something else, ok?”

“Great idea.”

There was shuffling on the other end of the phone that Ginny couldn't quite identify then he spoke again, “Been wondering about something, Baker.”

“K, what?” she asked around another mouthful of food.

“How is it you still don’t have a drivers license?”

The beer was halfway to her lips and she paused. Of all the damn questions…

“Your timing is impeccable, Lawson,” she sighed. It had been a terrible damn day, she’d pitched arguably the worst game of her MLB career (and that included her first major league disaster) and now Mike was asking a seemingly harmless question that brought up memories Ginny would rather not think about.

The silence must have tipped him off, because suddenly Mike said, “If you don’t want to answer, that’s fine.”

“No, I…I just…oh, what the hell,” she muttered. “When I was seventeen I was in a car accident.”

“Were you hurt?” he asked.

“Um…no. I…I wasn’t driving. My Dad-“ Ginny sucked in a breath. It had been so, so long since she’d talked about this, but it didn’t hurt any less, if anything the pain felt deeper. Her shrink would probably the pain was because of her refusal to discuss it. But there was no one she trusted more than Mike with her secrets, her pain. Despite their occasional fights (some of them downright nasty) without a doubt they knew the other person would be there for them, would shoulder a burden, would keep a secret. Some days it amazed her how quickly she and Mike had bonded in such a short period of time.

“Stop. You don’t have to-“

“You asked, Lawson.”

“Yeah, but if you don’t want to talk about it…”

“Maybe I should talk about it,” she countered, because maybe she _should_.

“Look, Baker. Talk or don’t, you know I’m here to listen if you want but if it’s something you aren’t comfortable with, forget I asked.”

Ginny took another bite of food and set the container aside, picking up the phone and turning off the speaker, bringing the device to her ear as she laid across the couch, propping her feet on the armrest.

“You in the mood for a sad tale of a girl and the day her Dad died?” she asked with more strength than she felt.

“Only if you want to tell it,” he whispered.

She picked at a thread at the edge of the couch cushion with her free hand. “You know, I don’t tell people this story very often. It’s kinda depressing.”

“Well, I’ll tell you one of my depressing tales when you are done. We’ll make a night of it.”

Ginny grinned just a little bit; somehow he always knew exactly what to say.

“Ok, here goes.” In less than a minute she’d detailed the game and the parts of the accident she could remember. “He wasn’t wearing a seatbelt; though he made sure I _always_ buckled up. It killed him. He went right through the windshield. When I woke up all there was was a hole…” Ginny took a deep breath to hold back the sob that was threatening to break out. “Blood was everywhere, on me, in the car. I remember getting out and everything was spinning, just…I don’t think I even really consciously knew what was going on, I was moving on instinct. Looking for my Dad." She paused, her voice had started to tremble. After a moment she breathed in and finished, the tremble not quite gone. "And I found him. Twenty feet from the car…”

“Jesus, Baker,” Mike whispered.

Ginny wiped away the tears that had worked down her cheeks as she’d remembered the terror and fear that had gripped her soul at the sight of her father’s body, clearly broken beyond repair. Even now her chest clenched at the memory, the feelings coming back as if it had happened yesterday instead of five years ago.

“It was surreal...he'd been sitting right next to me, we were talking about the Padres. I told him we did it, we made it and the next thing...lig-lights were shining through the windshield and then everything went black. And he was gone." Ginny sniffled a little. "He'd been right there, two feet from me." Again she stopped and silence reigned on the phone a long moment as she pulled herself back to the present and continued, Mike remained silent. "He died on impact they said. Didn't suffer. So I guess there’s that. We were hit by a drunk driver.” Then she let out a tight, mirthless laugh. “The driver was one of my teammate’s Dad, a first class dick and alcoholic. Was driving to the game, which had ended thirty minutes _before_.”

Mike let out a deep breath. “Dammit, I am so sorry Baker.”

“He wasn’t perfect, you know. Pushed too hard and some days I hated him, really hated him for making me put baseball first to the point I didn’t have a life. No boys, no friends, no dances or anything outside the game. But…I loved him with everything I had and I loved baseball almost as much. He taught me all I know and I owe him everything for that. I don’t regret choosing baseball but sometimes I wish there had been time for…other things. Normal things.”

“You know, I think your Dad would have been really fucking proud of you. Because I am, more than ever. You aren’t just blowing me away any more; I am literally in awe of you. And that’s coming from the narcissist.”

Ginny laughed a little at that. “About time someone brought you down to earth.”

“Probably was.” There was a long pause then, “But it didn’t answer the question exactly…”

She shifted on the couch a little, putting a couple pillows under her head. “I can’t stand the thought of being behind the wheel, losing control and causing someone else’s family to go through what I did. My therapist thinks I need to try if only to move on but I can’t. Every time I sit in the driver’s seat I panic. And you can spit statistics at me all you want and the fact the other guy was drunk but it doesn’t take away the feeling of terror I get when I think about driving. The thought that I could _kill_ someone's Mom or Dad or child wont stop spinning.”

“I get it.”

Ginny grabbed the forgotten beer off the table and took a long drink of it, finishing nearly half in one go.

“Your turn,” she said after swallowing.

“Are you sure you wanna hear this now?” he asked.

“Might as well.”

“Which story to go with?” he mused and Ginny heard shifting on his end of the phone, like he was lying back. “Well, let me provide some background…my Mom was a grifter of sorts, scam artist, Dad wasn’t around. We moved a lot, once she had pissed off a town it was onto the next one. Sometimes it would be a year in one place, sometimes a month.”

Ginny frowned at the phone; her family may not have been perfect, her mother having an affair, her Dad pushing her harder than a child should have been but in her heart Ginny knew they would do anything for her that her Dad was only pushing because he knew she was capable. But she had a home to go to, every night.

“One time…one time we moved to Paloma, that was the second time there. And she enrolled me in baseball. God, I loved baseball, it’s a game of concentration and those hours I played it was easy to forget about…well, everything else." Suddenly he laughed. "You know, I wanted to play first base…so bad.”

Ginny snorted loudly then quickly apologized. “Sorry, sorry. But…”

“Yeah, yeah. I suck at first, we all know. But I had this…coach. He convinced me to catch, taught me the beauty of it, the nuance. Reading batters and being in charge on the field, deciding pitches, it was freeing in a way - being in control of the game, of _something_ in my life. And I was good at it.”

“The best,” she agreed quietly.

“But because nothing good lasts, we moved just as baseball season was ending. And that’s when my… _mother_ bothered to tell me that coach I had come to admire was my Dad. He had a family, a son around my own age and clearly he didn’t want his family knowing about me…or her.”

Ginny sucked in a surprised breath and her heart clenched, for him this time. Who would do that to their child? Who puts that burden on them? “Did he know…who you were?”

Mike sighed. “Yeah, he did. I realized a couple years later there was no way he didn’t know who I was.”

“Have you seen him since?”

“Nope.”

“Do you want to?”

“Most days…no. While back I had a PI track him down but the file is locked in my desk. Never looked at it. DNA says he’s my father, that’s it. What’s the point of opening that wound now?” If his voice cracked a little, Ginny didn’t mention it.

Ginny chewed her lower lip, debating a second before speaking. “If nothing else, he made you a catcher and I know I’m thankful for that.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he agreed though Ginny could hear the reluctance in it.

“I think that should end the depressing portion of our conversation,” she said lightly.

“Actually, I’m gonna call it a night,” he said, voice tight.

“Ok,” she responded. "Night, Lawson.”

“Night Baker."

Ginny hit end on the phone but then quickly pulled up her contacts again and made another call.

“Hi Mom…”

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you SO MUCH for the reviews and kudos, they are always appreciated. Still taking phone call suggestions!! I should mention these are unconnected unless otherwise indicated. And they arent in any particular order, I'm purposely doing them without a time-frame so I'm not locked into anything if something does occur to me later.  
> Not my favorite chapter honestly but I can only edit for so long...enjoy!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike finds out what happened after Ginnys minor league teammates found out about Davis.

“Oh my god, did you see Salvi’s face?” Ginny laughed into the phone while dropping unceremoniously onto the bed and kicking off her tennis shoes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him turn quite that shade of red before,” Mike replied with equal mirth in his voice.

“Hey, he agreed,” she said.

“Yes, yes he did. Maybe next time he won’t take that bet from Evers.”

Ginny considered that a moment before responding, “Well he should have known. Leading with ‘hey, did you see my naked ass on ESPN’ is probably not a good opening line in a bar.”

“And will get you slapped in some places,” Mike added with a laugh.

Inadvertently she snorted into the phone, the bet between their teammate had been stupid on many levels and Ginny had tried to warn Salvi not to do it but the first baseman had been determined.

Suddenly she sobered at the thought of how the line had come about and spoke lowly into the phone, “I’m not sure I ever thanked you guys enough for that.”

“For what?” he asked distractedly and Ginny heard the distinct sound of a fridge opening.

She frowned at the phone. “Seriously? For stripping down and having naked pictures taken to distract from my…problem.”

A noise that sounded somewhat dismissive came down the line. “You mean the problem where your idiot ex failed to understand how online storage works?”

“It wasn’t his fault someone hacked-“

“-If he’d properly deleted it wouldn’t have mattered,” Mike’s voice was tense, almost angry; she couldn’t disagree with him.

“I know, your right it’s just…it wasn’t intentional.”

Mike made a noncommittal sound. “Yeah, Davis doesn’t get a pass from me.”

Ginny’s heart dropped at the mention of Trevor’s name. “How did you know it was him?”

“C’mon, Baker. I’ve never seen you lose it with another player like you did with him during the beanball game and you all but admitted there was something personal going on. Then an ex’s cloud was hacked? That’s math even a moron like I can do.”

Panic gripped her and Ginny struggled to get control, breathing slowly. “Who else knows it was Davis?”

“I dunno…”

“Who, Mike?” her tone was sharp, biting.

“Uh…me, Blip, Evers and maybe Voorhies. It’s not a big deal, Baker.”

“It is a big deal, Mike!” The panic was rising, if the team knew it was another ballplayer it could be the minors all over again, which had been a nightmare for the better part of a year.

“Ok, why? The guys all know better than to go looking for the photos. I put the fear of Mike Lawson into them. And they wouldn’t have anyway, they respect you, Baker. As a ballplayer.”

“It’s not…” she sighed and rubbed her forehead with the palm of her hand. “It’s not the photos.”

“Ohhkay.” he said then added, “Whatever it is, it stays between us, you know that right?”

“I know…it’s just…”

“What?”

Ginny let out a sigh. “Davis and I…we dated while we were in the minors. Kept it quiet, you know? We were so damn careful, and no one found out. Until Davis told me he was quitting, going back to school because baseball wasn’t going anywhere.” She paused and Mike was blissfully silent, waiting for her to finish the story. “And I believed him so I showed up to one of his games, basically outed our relationship to…everyone. Then I found out he’d been called up by the Cardinals. They’d been scouting him for weeks. Weeks, Mike.”

“Which he knew when he convinced you to go public.”

“Yep.” She popped the “p” almost angrily. “It didn’t take long for that tidbit to move through the minors.”

“I’d imagine not, this how your ‘no dating ballplayers rule’ start?”

“Had the rule before, Trevor convinced me to break it.”

“Ahhh, I get it, the whole quitting baseball thing to get around it.”

Ginny adjusted herself up onto the pillows. “You’re the winner.”

“How’d your teammates take it?” he asked while taking a long drink of something.

“Not gracefully. I spent about a year dealing with regular harassment.”

“What?!” Mike’s voice was harsh.

“Oh, yeah. Few guys tried to convince me to sleep with them so they could get called up next but mostly it was nasty comments.”

“Fuckers,” Mike hissed. “Who?”

“I’m not telling you!”

“Are they in the majors?”

“I’m. Not. Telling. You.”

She could sense his frustration even in silence through the phone when he asked, “Did the coach know?”

“I dunno. Never said anything if he did.”

“Baker, god dammit. You shouldn’t have to put up with that. You know…you know the guys would never do anything like that?”

“I know, I do and it’s long done now, Lawson. Besides, I’m in San Diego and most of those fuckers are still toiling in the minors.”

“Most?”

“Let it go, Mike. Seriously.” There was silence from his end. “And leave Davis alone.”

“We play em one more time you know…there could be a depantsing.” His voice was light, amused, it was obvious he was trying to turn the conversation around.

Ginny let out a laugh in appreciation of his attempt. “Oh my God, stop it.”

“Right there at home plate. Let’s see…we could get one of the new guys to do it, cause you know _that’s_ a suspension and fine. Al might be pissed but he’d get over it. We could call it retribution for the last came, no one would know.”

“And a depantsing at home plate is the best you’ve got?”

“It’s just a first idea…I’m open to suggestions.”

“You’re terrible,” she laughed and then, more seriously, “And Mike…thanks.”

“Anytime Baker, anytime. So…how far do you think we can get Salvi to go?”

“Oooohhh, I don’t know. Pretty far probably, the man cannot resist a bet.”

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are love. And I love all of you for the ones given so far.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Some will be super short like this one, some will be longer and have more "outside the phone calls" scenes - depends on the conversation.
> 
> If you have a topic you'd like to see in a future chapter leave it in a review or find me on tumblr (same name there as here) and leave me a message.


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